Dog
by BlackWolf2Dragoon
Summary: A dog isn't a present you give to a family member for a bit of fun. A dog is not just for Christmas. Roy Mustang knows this, but nobody understands. Written in the memory of my dog.


I ask kindly that nobody gives this any constructive criticism. Please, give me this peace of mind, for this wasn't written to become better. It is written to be.

This is written in the memory of my Miniature Schnauzer, Lucy, who passed away today as a brain tumor took her life. We had had her for fourteen years and she had lived a good life. When I was merely a child, she was my stand. For when I was a child, I was considered a weirdo, because I had interests in something other than House or Football. I didn't like tea parties and I didn't fancy tossing a ball back and forth. I was an animal, for I _really _believed that if I pretended, I could feel it. For that, I was isolated from mankind, yet Lucy was there for me when humans were not. I needn't speak, for Lucy would already know, _something was wrong. _No matter how much time will pass, I will always remember her as a member of the family, what a dog should be.

And so, I write this for her, and for all the dogs out in the world. For where would we be without dogs?

And I do hope that my remaining dogs, Kimmy and Honey, won't forget her either.

R.I.P Lucy, 1997 - 2011

* * *

><p><span>Dog<span>

A dog was for life, not just for Christmas. A dog was part of the family, even if it couldn't speak; it joined into the conversations like every other family member.

Some people didn't understand that. _It's just a dog, _was the most common response for caring about a dog more than what was deemed normal. People couldn't understand that down in the streets, a dog was all they had, what they could call a friend, a brother, a sister, family.

You witness inside kennels, hundreds of dogs without homes, unable to look after themselves or fend for themselves, in need of a loving family to take them home. What with money issues, they choose the most expensive thing to ditch, being their dog. They can't understand that a dog isn't a property. Its family and you don't abandon family.

You picture dogs as a simple pet; it can fetch, sit and beg. A dog does more than that. A dog could save a life. You see Labradors given jobs as a sea rescuer. Better than any life raft could, they jump right into the river, regardless of the dangers to their own lives, and save the life of the drowning individual human being. You see German Shepherds given jobs as a police officer. Given the order, it would run after the criminal, regardless of its own safety, and grab the arm of the criminal, pulling him down for its comrades to move in and capture the criminal to send him to jail. You see Rottweilers given jobs as bodyguards. They guard the object or life of a person with their own lives, taking their job more seriously than any other security guard ever could. For any little sound, they are alert onto it and remain alert. You see Border Collies given jobs as a security checker. They sniff out for drugs, anything illegal that would take minutes for a cop to find, whilst a dog finds it in mere seconds.

Whatever they do, a dog is always happy doing what they were told.

A dog was easy to tell from their mood. If they were happy, they wagged their tails. If they were sad, their ears drooped and were less energetic. If a dog knew it had done bad, they hide away, ears drooped and refuse to look you in the eye. They were great failures at putting on a poker face.

Roy Mustang knew all this. He had owned a dog, after all. He didn't come to work the day after, because he knew the significance of a dog. The day his dog died, he cried in private but kept his distance from everyone, a clear sign he was upset.

And people couldn't understand. It was just a dog. It was bound to happen sooner or later. It was something that just preoccupied you for a few years and then died. A dog was a present you gave to a family member to be enjoyed with and be cute looking, nothing permanent.

Bullshit, everything they said was utter bullshit. Roy knew it was, he had owned a dog, it was one of the best things that happened to him. A dog loved you unconditionally no matter what sins you committed. A dog wouldn't care if you had a crap personality, it would love you with all its heart. A dog doesn't care if you treated it badly, it would still love you, but always ask the question; _why? _

That's why Roy loved dogs. His dog didn't care of what happened in Ishbal, Roy told him everything and the dog still stayed. Mustang told him that he had to kill people as part of his job; the dog still loved him with all its heart. Roy told him he was a Colonel in the Amestrian military; the dog still wagged its tail at him. Roy Mustang told the dog he loved him and nothing could replace him, the dog pounced and licked him all over, making him laugh for the first time in years.

When Roy's dog died, a part of him died with his dog. A dog was a man's best friend, a dog did as it was told without complaint, a dog loved you no matter who you were or what you had done. A dog didn't even need to understand what you were saying, you didn't even need to tell it what was wrong, it would know something was wrong by your emotions and come to cheer you up. It would show you its love and affection always, in public, it didn't care, if you were beside the dog, that was its home.

Hawkeye had tried to understand, staying behind as Roy's bodyguard when he looked at his dog's grave.

"I understand why you're so upset, sir. That dog meant a lot to you, but you have to move on. There's no need dwelling on a family pet over your goal."

She still didn't understand. A part of Roy had died that day; it was something that could never be replaced by simply buying another dog. Maybe he'd consider it, but no, he wanted his dog back, he wanted _his _dog back. The same one that knew all his stories, the same one that filled in as his family, because he didn't have any family left. He had less than those that in the streets did. They had dogs of their own, some had a family, but Roy didn't have either anymore. All he had was a house that held just himself and the remains of hairs the dog left.

Roy remembered all those moments, just him and his dog. Where he threw a book for the dog to catch, but sneakily hiding it behind his back so there was nothing for the dog to find. His dog always found out and tackled him to get the book back. This resulted in a tug of war, often ending with a book to be ripped to shreds. That was ok, they would be transmuted back. He remembered the walks they took to the park, just the two of them, sitting behind a tree and watching the birds and kids fly by without a care in the world. He remembered how they worked together. More often than not, it would end in chaos and Hawkeye would remain less than impressed.

All the memories, the photos, everything a family member did. How could the people not know that a dog held the same significance as every family member did to a person?

Roy did, that was why he was going to try to bring him back. His mourning over, he would bring his dog back, like the death had never happened and everything would go back to normal. He had the chalk design on the basement floor; he always did experiments or something dangerous in his basement. He wouldn't have much time, Hawkeye would realise, she always did when he didn't turn up for work after an hour.

He didn't waste any more time. As soon as the chalk drawings on his floor were done and the correct ingredients were in place in the alchemical circle, he put his hands to the floor to change time back, to bring his life back in form.

It hadn't worked.

Because time passed and passed. There was no such thing as travelling back in time, as mankind hadn't been given the luxury of given second chances. When lives die, they remain dead, no matter whom or what they were. Once they were dead, they remained dead.

Roy couldn't bring his dog back, wouldn't see its smile, it panting or happy to see him back home. The happiest when given food or able to go on anymore walks together in the park, like they always did. He would never even be able to go back to walk on the very same path as he and his dog went on before, because he would break under the heavy hold of memories they held.

There would be no one to greet him home, nobody to share his bed again, no warm body, nothing but the quickly put out flames of his heart. He was doomed to live in the empty house where the evidence of another residence will quickly fade over time. He was doomed to have lost the only being that ever seemed to care of his existence, that didn't care of the sins he had done and would be there quickly to push him back to his feet if he needed help. Nobody who would cheer him up if he had a bad day at work, who would leap at him and make sure that he knew, just knew, that there was someone who loved him more than he was worth of. Left alone with the simple memories that he had what everyone had ever wanted their whole life, memories he would hope to fade, but they would not. Memories that would haunt him and taunt him of what he once had, but could never have again, as he doomed himself to trying to change time.

He would never get a dog again, because Truth prevents it. Punished, he is no longer allowed the same luxury as everyone wants; he would not be allowed to have his family back, or any kind of feelings where family came in.

Because nobody would care for him the same as his dog did.

Because, that dog was Edward Elric.

...

_Picture this girl; walking down the street to the local store to buy some milk for her parents._

_Picture this girl; she's walking back home, groceries paid for, completely oblivious to the world around her._

_Picture this girl; she's taken by a drunken man, beaten, raped then left on the floor to die._

_Picture this girl; she runs back home, frightened and scared for her life, crying to her parents._

_Now, picture that this girl is white._

**A Time to Kill by John Grisham, a speech given to the courtroom to prove a black man was innocent of killing a white criminal who had raped his black daughter during the time of the KKK. The black man was charged not guilty for the murder of the rapist by this speech alone. Because, black or white, human is human.**

* * *

><p>The quote given, because it is the same. A dog <em>really <em>isn't just a gift. A dog is family, whether it's not human or human, its still a member of the family like everyone.

Thank you for reading this and I hope that everyone who owns a dog feels the same, for they fill in the blanks no human every could for a family.  
>~Blackie<p> 


End file.
